


Regret

by LadyoftheWoods



Series: Regret [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt Deceit | Janus Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Sympathetic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Sympathetic Logic | Logan Sanders, Sympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: Janus has had enough.The others come to his rescue.
Series: Regret [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981735
Comments: 9
Kudos: 189





	Regret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kenapiece](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenapiece/gifts).



> Based on the amazing Sanders Sides series "Regret" by Kena piece on Youtube
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVTp9hqCuNo&t=2s
> 
> Go watch the series, it's amazing!

He's resigned. 

He's made mistakes. Missteps. He's used and abused the others, to prove his points.

He's silenced Logan.

He's shattered Roman.

He's impersonated and broken Patton.

He's ignored Remus.

He's… he's lost Virgil. 

He's lost everything.

And it’s all his own fault.

Writing the letters was the hardest, but it had to be done. It wasn’t fair, to go with no explanation.

And he's too much a coward to say it any other way. 

He stares into the pit. The forgetting pit. Where everything Thomas forgets ends up eventually. Where the lost go. 

Well, he's nothing if not lost. And he’s ready to go. 

He takes a deep breath, one foot over the void. He wonders what’s actually down there. If he’ll just… dissipate as soon as he steps completely off the edge, or if he’ll fall. Maybe he’ll fall for eternity, maybe he’ll snap his neck when he hits the bottom. 

It really doesn’t matter. Not much does, at this point. Certainly not him. 

“DECEIT!” He jolts, whipping around, Virgil, Virgil? Running towards him, towards the edge and his heart rate skyrockets. 

“N-no! Stay back!” He shouts, in warning. 

The rock under him crumbles. 

He falls. 

Virgil appears, standing over the edge, numb, horrified shock and terror and agony written across every line of his face, and he doesn’t quite understand it, understand what Virgil is even doing here, but for a moment, they lock eyes, regret flashing between them. 

Then the dark swallows him up.  
…  
He doesn’t remember landing, if one could call it that. 

It’s black. Thick, almost tarlike. It surrounds him, latches onto his clothing, he can feel it, slowly dragging him down. Pulling him down. 

He closes his eyes, takes a shaking breath, and lets it. That’s why he’s here, after all. 

It’s cold. 

It seeps in, under his layers, under his gloves, a dark, shadowy, aching kind of cold, that numbs him over. Numbs his limbs, his chest, his mind. It hazes over, as the dark slips in. It whispers to him, things he already knows, things that make him sink faster, his regrets, his sadnesses, his fears. 

He’s had worse nights of sleep. 

He slips away.  
…  
“Deceit?” A pause. A dream. A hallucination. “Answer if you can hear me!” He groans, slightly, trying to move, to open his eyes. “DECIET! I’m coming!” He finally manages to open them, to partially prop himself up on his arms, hissing at the motion. 

“Virgil? Why are you-“ his tongue feels thick and slow, his words slur, and Virgil answers before he can even finish the question.

“To get you back up again, idiot!” His voice is strained, cracking, and he doesn’t understand, why he seems to care.

“Heh… a good one.” He manages. That’s all this must be. A cruel final joke. A last hurrah. Give him hope and snatch it away (he’s never known the others to be that cruel, but his mind isn’t working right, at the moment).

“I’m not joking! Grab my han-“ Virgil tries to step forwards, but the rope pulls taught, he can’t reach him, and his eyes widen with panic, tears glistening on his cheeks. “Nonono! This can’t be it!” He exclaims, panicking now, stretching out as far as he can, but it still isn’t close enough to reach, not nearly. “TAKE MY HAND!” Virgil begs, almost, and he coughs out a laugh, though the air burns his lungs.

“W… why the sudden change of heart, Virgil? You said you wanted me gone. Just… just leave me here.” His voice is rasping and he shudders, the cold, it’s so cold, and the tar is sticking to him harder than ever, as if it feels him on the verge of leaving, of escaping its grasp, promising him oblivion, promising him no pain or hurt ever again, if he just lays back down and goes to sleep. He wants to sleep.

“STOP!” Virgil’s shout jolts him back to awareness, though his vision swims. He can feel himself, starting to fade already, starting to slip. “Please Stop! I admit you aren’t innocent, but I was equally as unfair to you! I should’ve listened when you reached out!” He’s sobbing now. Virgil is crying, crying over him, crying for him.

“P…probably a bit too late for that now.” He manages, going for wry dryness, barely managing a hoarse whisper instead, barely aware of the tears sliding down his own face.

“JANUS!” His name. His eyes shoot to Virgil’s. Virgil used his name. He hasn’t done that, he hasn’t called him Janus since he left, since he tried to keep him in the dark, since they fought. Janus. “You know that’s not true.” He can see the panic on Virgil as the rope is jerked sharply, a sign that whoever is on the other end has decided enough time has passed. He silently agrees. Much longer, and Virgil will get dragged down too. “Nonono, don’t pull me up yet. Take my hand, Janus! Please! Quick! Please, come home!”

His breath stalls. His face crumples. His resolve flees.

It’s that last plaintive cry, that forces him into motion. He hasn’t heard Virgil sound that desperate, that afraid, that utterly terrified, since he was a child, and monsters lurked in every corner, and the only way to soothe him was to hold him close, tuck him inside his capelet, so he could feel his heart, and rock him to sleep. 

“please.” Virgil’s voice is a delicate, trembling thing. A crystal so thin a single vibration will fracture it, a butterfly’s not yet dried wings, a glacier whom a single snowflake will push into an avalanche. 

He moves. 

He doesn’t know how he has the strength for it, it must be part of his parental instincts, because god, he hates it when Virgil is hurt. Especially when he’s the one doing the hurting. 

He pulls himself free, just up to his chest, hissing at the motion, throwing himself forwards, Virgil’s hands locking onto his forearm almost immediately. 

He can barely move any further, he can feel Virgil straining to pull him closer, and he manages a few stumbling steps, just enough that he falls against Virgil’s chest, legs giving out, sending him falling back into the tar. 

Instead he’s caught, arms scooping him up, dislodging the last clinging tendrils of darkness, and they start moving upwards. 

His eyes slip closed. It’s soothing, listening to Virgil’s heart, even if it is beating far too rapidly. He’s warm, too, so warm, and he’s still so cold, so freezing cold, his teeth are chattering. He thinks Virgil is talking. Thinks he’s speaking softly to him, but it all runs together, a low, meaningless chatter. 

A wave of aching vertigo washes over him, and he can’t help the whimper that escapes his lips, his tight grasp on Virgil’s hoodie loosening as his muscles spasm, and he feels Virgil’s grip tighten. 

“Hang on, Janus. Just a little longer, just hold on for me, please.” Virgil, voice low and intense, but soft, so soft. He squeezes Virgil’s hoodie tighter, knuckles white, in response. He can’t summon words. He can’t speak, he’s so weak it’s all he can do to hold on.  
…  
“JANUS!” The chorus of his name makes him stir from his stupor, his eyes flickering open, if just barely. 

It’s bright, it’s so bright, it’s incredibly bright, and it burns his eyes, before he closes them tight once more.

“Jannie? Jan Jan? Double D?” Remus, voice fragile and… and scared. 

“h… here. I’m… I’m h-here.” He manages, though it tears his throat to shreds. He gasps as a weight flings itself atop him, jolting him painfully, the warmth atop him so hot it almost burns. He knows it’s Remus. 

“you idiot. You fucking moron. I will rip your spleen out with my canines the next time you pull a stunt like this.” Despite his harsh words, Remus shifts him into his lap, holding him carefully, like any wrong touch and he’ll shatter. 

He might. He feels close to it. 

“S… sorry… I’m sorry…” 

“Shhh. It’s… well, I was going to say it’s ok, but that would be factually incorrect.” Logan, followed by a soft oof, as if he’s been elbowed, he'd guess by Roman. 

“What he means is this discussion should wait. You need to rest, Janus. We’ll get you home, alright? You don’t worry about a thing.” Patton, and he feels something gentle brush against his forehead. 

“I’ll keep them safe, Janus. I’ll keep you safe. Go to sleep.” Roman, voice warmer than he’s ever heard it towards him, and that surge of warmness sends him over the edge, into unconsciousness.  
…  
Voices. 

Echoes. 

“Virgil-“ 

“GO AWAY!” 

“It takes a liar, to know a liar.” 

“Why should we listen to that slimy snake?” 

“Um, hi, hello, what are you doing here?” 

He doesn’t know. 

He should be gone. 

Gone, where no one will ever be bothered by him ever again. Where his mere existence would no longer be an inconvenience. Where he would be unable to hurt anyone, ever again, that’s the one thing, the only thing, he is reliably good at. Hurting everyone around him. 

“Oh, honey, it’s ok. Hush now, kiddo, it’s alright. It’s alright.” Patton. Why would Patton… care? Why do any of them, why did Virgil come after him, why did they all, it doesn’t make any sense!

He feels softness against his cheek, against his scales. He tenses, but the hand merely gently wipes away his tears, lingering and stroking smooth circles over his cheek, that has him letting out the breath he’d been holding, melting back against the blankets and pillows once more. 

Dimly, he wonders where he is. Not his room, he’d feel if it were, not to mention the folly of leaving Patton in his room for an extended period of time, that would be a crisis of a whole new scale, likewise ruling out being in Patton’s room. He could handle it fine, but there was always a slight tingle of wrongness, to it, of stepping inside the black and white thinking he railed so hard against. 

Roman’s, he guesses. It was the most neutral of anyone’s rooms. It didn’t have the effects that tended to cause video worthy issues and crises, it was simply a space for ideas to be, and it took whatever form Roman needed for those ideas to manifest. Right now, it’s simply a bedroom, though probably an ostentatious one. He can practically smell all the gold filigree. The bourgeoisie would be proud. 

He tries to shift, the slightest movement dissuading him of that idea, setting his head pounding like tiny jack hammers are drilling against his skull, so badly that his stomach flips, and for a moment, he thinks he might actually be sick. 

“Janus? Are you… awake?” Patton asks softly, and oh, he’s forgotten Patton is here. 

“n-no.” He mutters, getting a small, wet laugh out of Patton, that quickly turns into gasping, breathy tears. 

“you scared me. You scared me so bad, Janus.” He manages to open his eyes, finally, blinking a few times to bring the world into focus, though it still isn’t quite right. Slightly off kilter, slightly blurred. Patton’s eyes are puffy and red rimmed, his nose red, a pile of tissues in the small trash can beside him, where he’s sitting on a chair beside the bed, one hand still against his cheek, the other seeking out his hand, and squeezing it softly once. He averts his eyes, taking a shaking breath. 

“W… why? Why…” he can’t manage more, but Patton seems to understand.

“oh honey. Because we care. We care about you.” He chokes on his strangled laughter.

“that’s a laugh and a half.” He forces out, fisting the blankets at another wave of nausea. “You don’t… you’ve never…” he curls tight against the pounding ache of his entire body, shaking. 

“Janus, please, you need to breathe.” He can’t. He’s so tired, he’s so cold, and he can’t breathe. 

“Janus." His eyes shoot up, locking on Virgil. Virgil. And he can’t breathe now, for a different reason, as Virgil slides onto the bed before him, taking his hands and rubbing his knuckles, grounding him, though his mind is frozen, unable to understand. 

“breathe." Virgil orders softly, and he finally does, exhaling sharply and gasping in air, folding against Virgil. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so… I’m sorry, Virg, I’m-"

“I know. I know, Janus. So am I. I know… I know you were angry, but I should have realized you were… were scared, of losing me. I should have known that’s why you clung so tight.”

“not your fault. I just… I can’t do anything right. I can’t do anything without hurting someone. It’s… there’s no point.” He said, voice cracking as he took in another shaking gasp. “there’s no point.”

“That’s not true!” Patton, and he shakes his head, drawing away, into himself.

“I tried. I tried to play the role. Fit the part of the villain. Then I tried to play by your rules. Be sincere. It didn’t matter. You ignored me either way. No one… no one ever listens, I’m just so tired of fighting to be heard, only for no one to listen.  
And things always turn out fine, anyways. With me, without me, it doesn’t matter either way. So yes, Patton. There is no point. My purpose is inconsequential. I am not needed, and I know better than to think I am wanted.  
I thought… I'd do everyone a favor.  
It’s not like you’d remember me, anyways.”

He’s losing it again. The haze is coming back, clouding him. His limbs feel heavy, and he feels someone gently push him back down into the blankets.

“I forgot. Me, Logan and Roman, forgot.”

“Remus and I didn’t. We would never, could never, forget about you. I don’t want to, forget about you.” A hand cards through his hair, and he slips away.  
…  
“what do we do with him?” Roman, pacing, from the sound of footsteps. 

“we be patient.” Logan, though his voice sounds as weary as Roman's does agitated.

“that's not a solution!”

“what do you want from me Roman? A twelve step plan? This isn’t that simple!” Logan snaps, followed by a long beat of silence. 

“I know. I’m sorry, specs, I know.”

“I don’t know how to fix this, Roman. Emotions… aren’t my strong suit. I don’t… I know causes, behind suicide. I can psychoanalyze the letters he wrote us, what he’s said to Patton and Virgil, I know the theories behind the therapies, I can deduce the reasons for his actions, but I don’t know how to help him! I don’t… I don’t know what to do.” Logan sounds… lost. Upset. Distraught. 

“I know. I… I don’t either. I… I've been cruel to him, Logan. I should have learned, from Virgil, but I didn’t. I shoved him back, hard, so he shoved back harder. And still, I didn’t listen.” 

“None of us did.” Logan murmurs back.

“you tried to. You tried, to help us see he was right, at least partially. And… we didn’t listen to you, either. Logan… I’m so sorry. We… we haven’t been good to you, either. We… I… haven’t given you the time you deserve.” He hears Logan's sharp inhale, and decides to save the logical side from the emotions overwhelming him.

He manages to crack open his eyes, finding it’s easier, this time. His body isn’t as resistant to movement, his head still pounds, but it’s a weak throb, as he forces himself upwards, sitting half reclined against the bedframe. He’s still exhausted.

“Janus. Here, you need to hydrate.” Logan's voice is relieved, if a bit shaky, as he moves to his side, helping to hold a glass to his lips, his own hands too shaky to hold it steady. He drinks carefully, stomach flipping after only a few sips, and he pushes it away. 

“How are you feeling?” Roman asks, while Logan frowns, setting aside the glass.

“better. Not that it means much, under the circumstances.” His throat isn’t as hoarse anymore, either. He can speak without it tearing at him, though his chest still constricts unpleasantly. 

“Good. That’s… that’s good. You weren't down there for too long, but any exposure clearly has massive repercussions, at least when you intentionally allow yourself to fade. Virgil had a mild headache and needed to sleep, but was otherwise fine.” Logan explains, sensing the question on his lips. He relaxes once more at that reassurance, closing his eyes for a moment to get his bearings.

“How long?” he asks. 

“four days. You’ve been in and out. Mostly incoherent, except for that first day, with Patton and Virgil. We’ve been taking turns, watching over you.” Roman answers, and he winces, rubbing his face with his hands roughly.

“You don’t have to-"

“Yes. We do.” Roman, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, warm auburn eyes meeting his. “We’re the ones who made you feel so… so hopeless, so alone, so unwanted, to begin with. You should never feel like that, I should never have made you feel like that.” He takes a sharp breath and looks away. 

“so it’s pity, then.” That makes sense. That he understands, of course it’s not kindness, of course it’s not care, it’s pity and guilt. 

“No.” Another dip of the bed, and a hand gently guides his chin, so he’s meeting Logan’s eyes, soft around the edges, warm enough they almost melt him. “It isn’t pity, Janus, at least, not solely.” He amends at the incredulous stare he gives Logan, the half truth bitter on his tongue. “Not even mostly. It’s…” 

“Regret.” Roman finishes for him, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. “It’s regret.” Oh. Well, that feels like a truth. A total truth. He… he doesn’t know what do with that information. 

“but you… hate me. You should, hate me.” 

“I don’t. I know none of us do, but we’ll each be glad to tell you that individually, if it eases your concerns.” Logan, still looking at him directly, not shying away from his gaze, holding steady until he has to look away. 

“I don’t hate you, Janus. I’ve been… angry, at you, and suspicious of you, and unfair to you. But it has never been hate. God knows my brother adores you, Virgil has been an absolute wreck, and Patton isn’t much better. They’re worried out of their minds, Janus. So… so are we. I’ve hurt you, Janus. And I’m sorry.” Janus. He’s noticed that. They’re all using his name. Roman, is using his name. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s overwhelmed, and can’t find the will to argue against them, to point out all the reasons they should hate him, they should distrust him, they should shove him aside.

“Do you think you could eat something?” Almost before Logan finishes, he’s shaking his head. 

“The water was almost too much.” He answers, laying back against the pillows once more, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Alright. Is there anything you need, Janus?” Something jolts in his mind and he frowns. 

“Remus. Where’s-“ 

“Ah. He was… rather upset. I sent him to go beat something up in the imagination, before he started losing it.” That calms him slightly. At least he’s getting his anger and fear out productively.

“good. That’s alright.” He mumbles, breathing out, pulling the blankets tighter to him. There’s at least three fluffy ones, a weighted one, but it isn’t enough. He’s still cold. He’s always cold. There’s never enough heat, not even in his usual thousand layers of clothes, in the upstairs of the mind. 

He gasps, as the blankets move, something warm settling next to him, and instantly, he clings to it, burrowing against it, only realizing at the soft breath against his hair that it’s a person. That it’s Roman. 

“Is this alright? You said you were cold…” Did he? He hadn’t thought he’d been speaking out loud. But yes, this is alright. This is warm, and that’s all he really cares about right now, he doesn’t have the strength to deny himself this.

Especially when Roman wraps his arms around him, sandwiching him in warmth, gently humming and rubbing up and down his back. He melts, breathing out a soft sigh of relief, as he drifts off once again.  
…  
Pacing. 

Back and forth. Back and forth. 

He’d recognize the sound of those boots anywhere. 

He helped design them, after all. Helped with all of Remus’s outfit, when he decided on the title of Duke, and needed the costume to match. Remus had a hundred million ideas, of course, but he needed help to focus them into something usable, something suitably elegant and sinister. It had been surprisingly fun, designing clothing. 

“Remus.” He says, and instantly, the bed jolts, bouncing up and down. When he opens his eyes, Remus is a mere inch away from his face, his eyes so intense they’re nearly glowing, his face as serious as he’s ever seen it.

Then Remus exhales softly, and presses their foreheads together, one arm tugging him close, the other cradling the back of his head. 

They don’t say anything. 

They don’t need to. 

Remus has been his one constant, his one companion, ever since Virgil left, his one last pillar of support, as wobbly and unstable as it may be, and he knows the Duke better than he knows himself. 

Remus has never hidden who he is. Has never been ashamed of it, even, even when everyone else was trying their hardest to force him to be. To force him to change into something more palateable, he just laughed in their faces and continued on with reckless abandon. He’s loud and caustic and plays it up around the others, just to get a rise out of them, delighting in their responses of horrified disgust, and the moments where Thomas forgets himself and actually laughs at whatever Remus had said or done or implied. 

It’s rare, for Remus to be this quiet. 

He doesn’t mind it, though. 

Remus seems to know, that this quiet is what he needs right now, that he understands everything Remus isn’t saying, that he knows exactly what Remus is feeling, because he feels it too. He knows. 

Remus’s silences often speak louder than his words.

“don’t do that to me again, Jannie. Promise me, you won’t ever do that to me again. You can’t do that to me again.” Remus’s voice cracks, and he squeezes his leg. 

“I promise. I promise, Remus, I won’t, I promise.” Remus exhales shakily. 

“Good. Good, goodie good Gucci good. Cause if you do, I’ll have to kill you.” He utters evenly, and Janus knows what he means is ‘I love you. You scared me. Don’t leave me.’ 

“I would certainly hope so.” He murmurs back, getting a small snort from Remus, who finally pulls back, taking both of his hands as he examines Janus, head to toe. “You look better. You were pale as a rigor mortis corpse, and not much more lively.” 

“I feel better.” He answers. The ache in his chest is gone, as is the pounding in his skull. He’s still tired, but he doesn’t feel seconds from passing out, anymore. He’s still a bit lightheaded, a bit dizzy, but that probably has more to do with not having eaten or drank much of anything in the last… week? He’d guess. 

“you wanna get out of here?” Remus asks, with a suggestive shoulder shimmy and a sparkling grin. He rolls his eyes, but smiles, bumping Remus’s shoulder. 

“Please. If I’m going to actually be awake, I’d rather not be awake in this brocaded nightmare.” It’s Remus’s turn to chuckle, offering him an arm as he stands, inhaling sharply at the change of elevation, vision swimming for a moment, before settling. 

“Ok?” Remus asks, and he nods, clutching Remus’s arm just a bit tighter, treipidation filling him at having to actually go out there and see everyone, he still doesn’t quite understand, doesn’t get it, doesn’t know why… 

Why they care, so much.  
…  
Virgil is sitting in the arm chair, legs pulled to his chest. His eyeshadow is rather dark, and his eyes are a bit red, as if he was crying not too long ago. Patton is clanking around in the kitchen, Janus can see plates of cookies and brownies from the entryway to the living room, clearly stress baking. Logan is muttering to himself as he jots down notes in his planner, and Roman sits on the couch, leg bobbing nervously, as if he has too much pent up energy and doesn’t have an outlet. 

Virgil looks up, eyes widening when they land on him, and he flinches, waiting for the hiss, the derision, the ‘what are you doing here, go aways’. He’s surprised when instead Virgil launches out of the chair and slams into him, sending him stumbling back and nearly falling, if not for Remus steadying them from behind. 

“Easy, Stormcloud. He’s still a little wobbly.” Remus scolds gently, though he doesn’t seem to mind, wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his head on his shoulder, as Virgil clings to his shirt, breathing harsh and jagged. He carefully wraps his arms around Virgil, pressing his face against his hair, closing his eyes and taking it in. 

“Janus…” Virgil’s voice is choked, tear filled, and he shushes him, swaying slowly. 

“I’m here. It’s alright, Virgil, I’m here.” He murmurs, pulling back enough to meet Virgil’s eyes, which are a strange mix of relief and devastation. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I never wanted… Just… just stay. Please, I want you to stay.” Virgil’s voice breaks, and he knows what he’s asking. 

Asking him not to try again, yes. 

But also asking him not to go back to the dark. Asking him to join them up here, in the light. Asking him to be part of his family, again. 

And he wants it. God, he wants this, so badly, it physically hurts, to remove his arms from around Virgil, to shake off Remus, to take a step back and square his shoulders, putting on his unflappable air even though he feels moments from falling apart.

“I’m afraid I must be going. I’ve already spent more time up here than I should, and it’s best not to leave downstairs unsupervised for extended periods of time.” He answers, voice smooth as ever, as he summons his hat, pulls on his gloves, his armor, his shields, his defenses. 

“Janus. We would like you to stay.” Logan, soft but firm, closing his planner and setting it aside, coming to stand besides Virgil, who himself looks no better than Janus feels. 

“We want to do right by you, Janus. We would like you to give us the chance to do better.” Roman, resting a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, eyes so earnest they hurt. 

“I…” 

“Janus.” His eyes meet Patton’s, who’s emerged from the kitchen at the sounds of conversation, and the others part for him as he steps forwards, coming to stand right before him. Patton smiles smally, reaching up and tilting back his hat, so he can see his face, bright blue meeting his mismatched gold and brown, his hand slipping down to cup his cheek. “You’ve done so much for us, kiddo. You’ve done so much, to keep Thomas safe. I haven’t appreciated what you do, and how hard it is. None of us have. I’m sorry, Janus. I know that doesn’t fix things, and I know it might not mean much, but I’m sorry. And I’m…” Patton breaks off, wiping his face and taking a shaky breath, Janus hadn’t realized he’d started crying. “I’m so proud of you, Janus.” 

He feels frozen. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, he realizes dimly he’s shaking, and his face crumples, his resolve vanishing, and he clutches the clasps of his capelet, to try and steady himself. 

“Oh, kiddo. I love you, so much. I’m so sorry we haven’t shown you that, I’m so sorry we haven’t listened, I’m so sorry, we pushed you to go that far.” Patton enfolds him in a hug, and he lets out a sob, burying his face against Patton’s shoulder, his own shoulders shaking from the force of the sobs tearing at his throat, all the bottled up pain and want and bitterness pouring out of him, as his knees buckle and Patton holds him, gently sliding them both to the ground. 

He cries harder as he feels more arms fold around him, Remus still sandwiching him from behind, holding him tight. Virgil wraps up him, Remus and Patton, from his left side, Roman in a similar position on his right, and he pulls Logan into the hug as well, though the logical side seems slightly unsure where his hands should be, he doesn’t protest. 

“Yes.” He sobs out, because they want him. Nothing they’ve said to him is a lie, nothing Patton has said to him is a lie, which means they’re sincere, and he barely knows how to process that, if he did he wouldn’t be a blubbering mess on the floor right now, but even this feels so damn good. So warm. 

“Yes?” Logan asks, and he nods, pulling back just a tad, allowing a smile to break across his face, a real one, a wide one, that shows off his slightly sharp canines, and he half laughs, half sobs. 

“I’ll s-stay. I’ll… I’ll stay.” Patton squeals, pulling him back into a hug, practically vibrating with positive energy. Virgil shoots him a shaky smile, reaching out a hand to help him up, as Patton lets go. Roman squeezes his shoulder gently, smiling softly, as he collapses onto the couch with a huge sigh, running a hand through his hair, tension bleeding from his shoulders. Logan nods, as he settles back in his chair, though there’s a tired kind of relief on his face, as well. Remus just grins, knocking his shoulder. 

“Took you long enough, snake face.” He rolls his eyes, playfully shoving Remus, so he falls back on the couch. 

“Shut up trash panda, don’t you have a skunk to wrestle or something?” He asks, surprised to hear a giggle from Patton, whom he turns to with a raised eyebrow. 

“Skunks are cute!” He defends, unable to manage a decent pout through his grin. “Also, I may have made about a billion batches of sweets, if anyone wants any.” 

“Welp, that’s my cue!” Out of the way, Pleebs!” Remus shouts, vaulting the coffee table, vanishing into the kitchen. Janus shakes his head fondly, letting it thump back against the couch cushions. 

“He’ll shove a dozen in his mouth at once. I swear he has pouches like a hamster, I’ve just never been able to prove it.” Roman chuckles, sitting down beside him, and he’s unable to help himself, as he curls against Roman’s side, resting his head atop Roman’s chest. He feels the creative side tense for a moment, before he relaxes, brushing a hand through his hair. Janus lets out an appreciative hum, eyes slipping closed. 

He hadn’t been all that tired, when he came out here, but the emotional turmoil has worn him out. He suspects it will be a while, before this lingering exhaustion truly fades away. 

“Still sleepy, bananaconda?” Roman murmurs, a soft rumble against his cheek. He simply nods in response. “Alright. Take a rest, Janus. When you wake we’ll have to try and get some food in you.” He feels a blanket be tucked in around him, and he snuggles closer as Virgil settles on his other side, a steady weight against his back. He suspects his little emo is going to be a bit clingy for quite a bit, but he doesn’t mind, truly. It’s… almost novel, Virgil wanting to be anywhere near him, much less sticking to him.

He lets the steady beat of Roman’s heart, the soft background noise of the others talking, the quiet laughter and murmurs and occasional soft words directed towards him, lull him into a gentle half sleep.

He’s staying. 

They want him. 

He’s home.


End file.
